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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974950">get up, get down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahpip/pseuds/woahpip'>woahpip</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, LysiClaude Week, Pining, Various Cameos - Freeform, day 4: special person, i wanted an excuse to write a coffeeshop au and i got it, no beta we die like Glenn, surviving captalism college and shitty families</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:02:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahpip/pseuds/woahpip</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“The coffee is good. And the asshole barista didn’t seem too bad.” He winked at her.</p><p>“You haven’t been here long enough.”</p><p>*</p><p>Lysithea is a barista at a coffeeshop Claude decided he <i>has</i> to frequent.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lysithea von Ordelia/Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>LysiClaude Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>get up, get down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>idk how entertaining this will be but this is my self-indulgent fic for these two. may everyone who feels fucking tired get some enjoyment from it!!</p><p>LysiClaude Week day 4: special person essentially started this!!</p><p>story and chapter title is from coffee by sylvan esso.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Garreg Mach Cafe made its name on being a place for everyone. Art kids strung up their pantings and photographs, contact info scrawled at the bottom in case someone wanted to pay them for it. The pastry selection was delicious and varied— one particular student had mentioned he loved more savory treats and the baker in-house decided she needed to put out 2 or 3 of those options each day alongside her sweets. Wi-fi was fast, so many students plopped in to do homework for all different kinds of classes. It’s drinks were unique, but it still served the same coffee’s as your franchise shop. It was a place that tried hard but was still cool. It was beloved by students from the start.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The drink selection was tremendous. They had to keep a book under the counter of all the recipes, and inevitably some first year would come in and order their version of a cloud macchiato, and it would be a new barista on their own for the first time and the drink would take 20 minutes at least to put together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was chaotic working there. Lysithea didn’t hate it, but she didn’t love it either. It was a job, to pay for school and sometimes give money to her parents even though they wanted her to keep it for herself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had worked there for 2 years now. The owner, Byleth, said she was “the most senior barista on the team, despite her age.” Lysithea knew she meant well but hated that shit. She was in her last year of undergrad; she was a grown ass woman.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everyone else there was older than her. Bernadetta was the aforementioned baker. She was hired right after Lysithea and was great at her job; sometimes she got caught up in her anxieties but she had gotten good at reeling herself in. Lysithea tried not to fault her for things she couldn’t control.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The shop stayed busy, but only had a few permanent baristas and kitchen staff. Hilda, who didn’t like to work but was very kind, always ended up covering the midday shift when everyone else had class. Little sculptures of hers hung from the ceilings, and Byleth let her keep a rack of bauble earrings for sell at the front. Marianne was painfully quiet, but she helped boisterous Raphael keep the kitchen in check. Lysithea had noticed her smiling more lately whenever they closed out. Lorenz joined her as a barista; he was rich and always talked about it. He only worked there because an advisor said it was “unbecoming to have no real work experience on his resume.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were the main staff that had been there as least a year. Byleth worked a lot, covering shifts when classes or sickness came up. Other people were hired, kids from the college usually, that stayed on only a few months at a time. Their huge menu and busy hours turned off some people.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It attracts the best, though,” Byleth would always say.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">*</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was the beginning of the semester and Lysithea instantly missed their slow summer days. She hadn’t taken any summer classes and worked full time at the shop. Their regulars during the off-season were varied: a few grad students haggard as always; camp counselors visiting bright and early; professors that stayed in town. They were busy in the mornings and definitely had an evening rush around 5, but in between she was able to sneak bites of Bernie’s newest cakes, sipped decadently sweet lattes and made sure to slip Raphael extra tip money for making her sandwiches at lunch time even when she doesn’t ask.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now that university was back, Wednesdays were her only day without classes, which meant she worked open to close. Byleth had already unlocked the door this morning and was straightening chairs when Lysithea walked in. A cup of coffee was waiting on the counter, back of house cream and sugar left out. She fixed her cup and then began setting up the counter. Bernadetta was in the kitchen humming while working scone dough. These were the best mornings. The three of them liked quiet for the first little bit. No music, no unnecessary talking. Just working amongst themselves. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lysithea checked all their milks and set up the station at the end of the counter with cream, oat milk, various sweeteners, and a shaker of cinnamon. She tore down sticky notes left from closers the night before about what needed replaced; sometimes they left gossip on them, but none today. Just a sloppy “have a good morning Lysi!” scribbled in Hilda’s handwriting, the girl having worked a rare closing shift.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Soft pop music plays over the speakers as they finally open. First orders of the day are all tea, made by women in exercise clothes, some with yoga mats. Lysithea remembered how much she used to run in high school, miles and miles, until she started having dizzy spells and passing out. Doctors were never sure what happened. She’d been jealous of any hardcore exerciser since. Byleth always had to remind her to be nice to the exercise people, even when they were mad there was no hemp milk.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they left, the folks getting ready for 8ams came through. One of their regulars, Ignatz, stopped by in an apron, wanting a regular coffee.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“An apron?” Lysithea asked once she turned away from him, being careful not to overfill his cup.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks.” He accepted the cup and went to add just a touch of cream. “Taking pottery this semester. I’m good at it! Just tend to get a little…messier than I’d like. I have a business class right after.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gross.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once he’s out the door there’s professor after professor wanting any coffee they can get. She doesn’t make her first “real” drink until another regular, Annette, orders a creme brulee latte and one of Bernie’s fresh cinnamon rolls. After that Lysithea gets swept away in orders, mindlessly filling cups and steaming milk. She tries to concentrate so she doesn’t fuck anything up but she does think about her to-do list for the day, things she needs to squeeze in during breaks and once she gets home. Reading for her biochem class, preparing for 3 lab days next week, studying for the Spanish class she needed to graduate (that she’d been putting off…). All just chipping away at the larger list of what needed done.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take a fifteen!” Byleth said, shoving a blueberry scone into her hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was sunny so she sat at one of their outdoor tables. The metal chair was warm as she settled into it. Crumbs fell on the table top and birds were chirping nearby, waiting for Lysithea’s break to be over so they could swoop in and feast.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a break like a thousand others she had before. She flipped through her vocab list on her phone, mouthing verb conjugations. After her last bite she wiped her fingers on her pants and checked her timer: about 7 minutes of peace left. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, is this a coffee shop?” A man stood in front of her table. Pleasant voice, sounding more like he wants to start conversation than get a real answer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looks up, late morning sun glinting around him, forcing her to squint. “What’s the sign say?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What had Byleth been telling her about tact? That she <em>lacked</em> it some days?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her rudeness didn’t phase him, almost-fake grin still on his face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is it a good one though?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I heard the barista this morning is a bitch.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If the coffee’s good, I’ll risk it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was Almyran tan with dark hair, longer on top with pieces to frame his face.. Beard was close cut but thick; it would definitely get scraggly if it wasn’t trimmed. Very cute. Maybe a nice man, maybe an asshole— banter like this made it hard for her to tell.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let her finish her break and you’ll find out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay…” he leaned over to read her name tag. “Lysithea. I’ll wait for you inside then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He moved to the door and then stopped before opening it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have crumbs on your mouth, by the way.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door’s tinkling bells drown out her internal screaming.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once she’s back, Claude gave his name along with his order, a cappuccino. Byleth peeked in from the kitchen door and Lysithea saw her arch an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Something interesting?</em> she mouthed, but the woman just shrugged and leaned against the door frame.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lysithea brought him his drink in a large mug with a saucer since said he mentioned he’d be staying a while. She decides to wait for just a moment and see what he thinks. He doesn’t seem to find it weird, moving to take a sip without questioning her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The coffee is good. And the asshole barista didn’t seem too bad.” He winked at her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You haven’t been here long enough.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she walked back to the counter and turned around to face the store, she was extremely disappointed to find he wasn’t looking back at her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">*</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hilda comes in a few hours later to help cover during rush. Raphael had just gotten in too, his music from the kitchen mixing with the overhead music. That and the people rushing in for lunch gave Lysithea a headache. She mixed so many sweet teas her wrist felt tight. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Claude was still at a table in the back corner, typing furiously on a laptop, textbook open beside him. She speculated about him while she worked. Must be a graduate student, unless he started undergrad late. A few glances at his arms made her think he worked out. She needed an excuse to walk near him to see what he studied.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re staring at the hot new guy,” Hilda stage whispered, then followed it up with an elbow to Lysithea’s ribs. “You get his name?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s Claude.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Claude! Such a pretty name.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you yelling?! He can hear you…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And he had. He walked back up to the counter, finally dropping off his empty mug. The smile on his face was wider now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you think that’s pretty, you should hear my real name.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He spoke to Hilda but winked at Lysithea.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hope to see you around, mean barista.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were extremely busy once he left, no time to debrief whatever had just happened. It was about 2 hours later when they hit another lull. Everyone came out to eat a late lunch. Raphael made a platter of fries, salted perfectly. Bernadetta moved in and out while she ate, cleaning her part of the kitchen so she could leave for the day. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No guest today Bernie?” Hilda asked, crunching around a fry.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The girl blushed but gave a grin. “Not today, he’s busy working. But we…wedohaveadatefriday.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry, please slow down. A date?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hilda leaped off her seat on the counter, eyes full of plans. Everyone else grinned, excited about Bernie seeing one of their regulars.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, a date with Bernie.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You two should stop by for coffee,” Byleth said, casually sipping from water bottle. Pretending to totally not be interested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ack! I…I guess. He does drink coffee.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We know! Asshole made me relearn my pour over technique for him.” Lysithea had barely worked there before the “dark and stormy reg” as Hilda called him lectured her on how to make the perfect cup. “He made fun of me for adding sugar to my own drink.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s not into sweets,” Bernadetta said, moving to escape into the kitchen and finish her cleaning.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s into you though!” Hilda exclaimed. Bernie ran red into the back, so Hilda turned towards Lysithea.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Could we have another coffee shop romance on our hands?” Hilda turned to Byleth and asked, innocently twisting a piece of hair around her finger.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Byleth gave a shallow grin. Lysithea just scoffed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just because he looks good doesn’t mean he’s my type OR that he likes me. I think he’s the kind of man that flirts with anyone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hilda didn’t look convinced.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see won’t we?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lysithea didn’t say anything else and the conversation quickly moved away from her. She wondered if the guy, <em>Claude,</em> would even remember her next time he came by. She seriously doubted that she made a mark on him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She would try and not think about it constantly; she had too many other things to worry about.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">*</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hilda stays for the first little bit of evening rush but then has to leave. She meets with Byleth in the storeroom at the end of her shift. Lysithea tries to cut through the idle chatter around her to hear what they were discussing. She was nosy, and hated being left out. If something <em>fun</em> was happening, she wanted to know. Didn’t they think she needed some happiness too?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they step back into the front area, Byleth’s face gives nothing away but Hilda has a deep grin, the scheming kind when her gears are turning and she has something in mind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Resist screaming at them!</em> Lysithea thinks, thankful she’s been practicing her calm. They’d tell her nothing if she did that. She needs to snoop around instead, dig into whatever weird plans they were concocting.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“See you tomorrow night Grumpy Girl.” Hilda affectionately pats her on the head and goes toward the door, missing Lysithea’s middle finger.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Byleth takes orders and makes drinks like there’s nothing going on. At the end of the night, she finally speaks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lysithea…You should have some fun this semester.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…I should?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Before you go off to grad school and save the environment.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’ve had this discussion before: Lysithea spent too much time on school and work, and her boss thought she needed to be more sociable. And hadn’t she just thought that she wanted to have fun?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you suggest I go about that then? Having fun.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Byleth surprises her with a full on, gleaming smile. It looks <em>evil</em>; it promises a hot mess of things.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think we can figure out something.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">*</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thursdays were for closing, taking over for Hilda. Lysithea’s brain was spinning from her last class, preparation for lab. She’d filled up two pages in her journal with next weeks study plan, and it still wasn’t done. The last few hours of the night were also slow, but she desperately wanted a big group of friends to order frappucinos, anything to drown out her inner monologue.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hida threw an arm around her shoulders almost instantly when she got in, and Lysithea rested against her for a few moments. Thursday had been traditional busy days for her; Byleth told her multiple times she didn’t need to cover the last few hours of the night, but she felt compelled to work as much as possible. Having more money made her less of a burden on her parents, that’s what mattered most.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lysithea finally got started, wiping down the counter. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He came by again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Oh fuck. </em>“Who?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hilda stuck her tongue out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The hot guy. The Claude, ‘that’s my secret-name’ guy. He asked about the mean barista.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You didn’t give him my schedule did you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course not,” Byleth butted in. “We did not tell him you’d be in tonight.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Buuuuuuuuut he said he might be by later anyway. Thursdays suck for him too, apparently,” Hilda said. She waggled her eyebrows. “I’m sad I won’t be here to see. Tell me everything if he comes in Lysi. Every. Thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lysithea just rolled her eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you don’t find out from me I’m sure someone will tell you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hilda stopped halfway out the door, blocking some patrons.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Damn right!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">*</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Five minutes to close, and he came.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The stress of the day, of school, of life must be crashing down on Lysithea, because she felt herself overwhelmed with nerves.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Byleth, kitchen for a minute, now!” she whispered while Claude read the chalked menu. “I need a Bernie huddle.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bernie huddles were when Bernadetta was having a high anxiety day, but didn’t want to run. She just needed a big group hug and some kind words.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lysithea did them because she liked Bernie, but she hated full on hugs; a pat or an arm around her shoulder usually did the trick.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The only thing that sounded helpful in this moment though, were sweaty arms around her and someone telling her she was okay.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Why? She didn’t quite know.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was just Byleth and Raphael left, but they circled around her in a hug.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know what’s wrong…but you can do it!” Raphael said, patting her hard on the back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you…not want to talk to the guy?” Byleth said, looking serious. “I can make him leave. He can go to Dunkin or whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lysithea took in one deep breath, and then another. “I think he’s very cute.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Raphael tilted his head. “Is that bad?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not sure yet. Just don’t make him leave Byleth.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, I won’t…but one of us has to go take his order”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“EEP. Do you think he’ll leave. We have left him there for a few minutes…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The magic hug broke apart and Raphael peeked his head through the order window. “He’s looking at the pastries. Just waiting, very patient.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can take the order.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She appreciated Byleth trying to give her one last out, but she was a grown-ass woman. She could take the order of someone who was new, very cute, and seemed to like her for some reason.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she walked through the doors, Claude’s head lifted and he smiled her, something much smaller than his smile the day before, but it looked a thousand times more genuine. Lysithea prayed to the goddess that for once, her face would stay pale and unblushed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She managed it until he spoke.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mean barista. I’m glad I caught you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why’s that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nice to see another asshole in the wild.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She choked out a laugh, remembering her thoughts the day before about what kind of person he was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just a small coffee with room for cream today, to go.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Respectful of closing times— very good. Big point in the not-an-asshole-really column.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His face looked more haggard than the day before. Dark circles made half moons under his eyes, and he looked sallow like he really needed some water instead of caffeine.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Long day?” He took his cup from her carefully and pursed his lips, waiting a minute to answer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could say that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A complicated answer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were about to close: she needed to clean their equipment, help Byleth with the tables. But she found she wanted him to stay just a little longer. She wanted to know why he looked so tired.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thursday fucking suck,” was all that came out her mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…why would…” Byleth’s muttering drifted through the order window, but Lysithea couldn’t catch her full sentence. She decided to ignore it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Claude grinned again, stirring his drink. “That they do. You gonna be here tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m off.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Too bad. Maybe I’ll see you another day?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looked at her like he really meant it. She blushed again, not remember the last time someone showed her this much attention.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This wasn’t even a lot. How sad was she?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll be around,” she decided to say, stopping herself from asking him on a date, or if he wanted to go the amusement park, or telling him<em> she could get lost in his eyes</em> like some Gautier line.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I will be too, if that’s okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t stop smiling but his eyes hold a sense of worry, like he automatically thinks she’ll push him away. It makes her sad for some reason, even though he got another point for actually giving a shit enough to ask.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He leaves her with a nod and jauntily stepped outside, whistling some happy sounding tune. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was the last person in the shop; Byleth followed his footsteps and flipped the door sign to close.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He left happier then he came.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He did.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The pair started stacking chairs, preparing to sweep. Usually Byleth would stay silent, especially when it seemed like Lysithea was having a bad day, but she had to speak up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We have to teach you to flirt. ‘Thursday fucking suck?’ “</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They do!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Byleth smiles and Lysithea gives a small one of her own. <em>Usually suck </em>she tacks on silently, thinking one day soon, it could change.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading!!</p><p>new chapter hopefully posting in July.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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